


Tall Tales

by Patomac



Series: Writer's Month 2020 [14]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Ghost Stories, Space Pirates, Tall Tales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26020114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patomac/pseuds/Patomac
Summary: No one tells a ghost story like an old sailor.
Series: Writer's Month 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862173
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	Tall Tales

**Author's Note:**

> For Writer's Month Day 18: Myths

I’ve heard a lot of tall tales in my day. Off the rings of Azarib the ore miners tell of a robot that gained sentience and wiped out a whole crew before heading planetside. In the Carrachian system tales of an enormous space-dwelling creature named Big Blue abound. From central ring to outer limits, every planet seems to have its ancient gods, wrathful and giving, capricious and dedicated.

From ground to stars, storytelling—mythmaking—is a way of life. It’s how we as tiny, insignificant humans process the vastness of the universe, the web of causality, the ever-shifting landscape of the galaxy and our place in it.

Philosophy aside, no one tells a tall tale like an old sailor.

“There I was, deep in the black,” Marty said. “My engine is wheezing like a deckhand on half ox. We’re moving forward on pure momentum. Nearest civilized system is a solid fourteen days away at sublight. My first mate is down with a case of Sarisis fever. My second mate hit his head on the contrafibulator. It’s just me and my mechanic, and my mechanic disappeared into the engine room nearly three hours earlier.”

Marty leaned back in his chair. The old plasticine creaked. “I call down on the radio. ‘Elroy? Can you hear me?’ No answer. I try again. ‘Elroy? You there?’ Nothing. I call and I call and I call, minute after minute, hour after hour. And still no reply.

“The hours drag on. And on. And then, I see a shape off in the distance. It’s another ship! I launch myself to my radio controls and give them a hail. ‘This is _Arabesque_ hailing unknown ship. Unknown ship, do you read?’

“The air is dead silent for a minute. Then another. I call again. “ _Arabesque_ hailing unknown ship. Unknown ship, do you read?

“The silence continues. On and on and on it goes.

“I’m starting to sweat. I don’t know what happened to my mechanic. I can’t get any of my crew members on the loudspeaker. And now, there’s this ship out off the port bow. Its exterior lights are off, and I can’t see if the engine’s running. Are they dead? Are we next?

“I hail the ship one more time. ‘ _Arabesque_ to unknown. We are in distress. Engines failing. Do you copy?’

“I put the radio down. Took off my hat and wiped the sweat from my brow. And then, to my surprise. The radio squawked. Not the ship-to-ship, mind you, but the internal comm center. A burst of static pealed over the loudspeaker, and then a voice.”

Marty leaned forward. He dropped his voice low, and hissed through his teeth. “’Copy, _Arabessssssssque_. Distressssssss sssssssssignal resssssssieved. Dock at earliesssssst convieniensssssssse.’

“My heart dropped into my stomach. I’ve never heard a voice like that before. Never since, either. But what choice did I have? I switched the ship from automatic pilot. Keyed up the docking sequence.

“Then I heard it. A thumping deep in the ship. Footsteps, I realized. Someone was running! I wheeled around, reaching for my side arm. The door slid open. My mechanic rushed in, covered in some sort of crawling ooze.

“’Elroy?’ I said. ‘The hell you been?’

“He didn’t say anything to me at all. Just grabbed the controls right out of my hands and hit the turbobooster. We shot forward, about ten times faster than we should have gone.

“’Elroy!’ I said. ‘What the everliving— ’

“’I just saved your life,’ he said. ‘All of our lives. Those weren’t sailors, chief. They were raiders. It’s their net that fried our engine. They were going to rob us blind and leave us to die. Or worse.’”

Marty looked around at the circle of young faces arrayed in front of him. “Let that be a lesson to you, munchkins. Here in populated space, you can hail a craft, maybe get a rescue. Out in the black?”

He shook his head, fighting back a shudder. “Out there, you don’t call other ships. You keep to yourself. Or else.”

We all nodded.

“Also,” Marty said with a wink at my mother. “Don’t forget to pay your mechanic.”

She threw a grease rag at him.


End file.
